No, not the lovely melody of Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik.
No, not the boom chicka wah wah of some middle of the night boom chicka wah wah.
Yes, the dulcet tones of the 7 year old heaving his guts out most of the night.
And then wanting me to sleep with him. Twin beds and me…yeah, we don’t get along so well. Add a sick kid in there and it just ups the fun factor.
So, this morning, I’m the walking dead, trying to not lose my shit over the tiniest little thing. And the 7 year old? Running around the house as though he had a perfect night’s sleep.
May the looooong day commence.
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